"The only condition," I told her, "Is that you need to put on your shoes and socks before we leave."
"OK!" she happily agreed.
Yet, for the next 10 minutes, while I set about finishing a shopping list and grabbing items I'd need for the outing... whenever I glanced down at Carolyn, she had one sock on her foot and had slumped in to a heap on the floor.
(This picture quality is awful, but I was carrying a toddler in one arm.)
"Gracie, put your shoes on. If you want to go, you need to wear shoes."
"Gracie, come on. You can do it."
After another five minutes had lapsed and my child rolled around on the floor and moaned that putting on her shoes was SO TIRING, I suggested that she come over to where I was standing at the counter so I could assist.
She began moving across the floor on her belly.
One inch at a time.
Abandoning the one lone sock, behind.
Groaning. Lamenting. OH! The pure exhaustion.
This exertion was simply too much for my young daughter and she put her face down and began to snore. That's when I called out to her brother, "William! Do you want to go to the store with me? It looks like Gracie is going to stay home with dad and take a nap!"
Clearly, that was the motivation that she needed.
In less than a minute, Carolyn had jumped off the floor, pulled on her other sock, jammed her feet in to her shoes and was standing by the door with her arm outstretched singing to me, "MOMMY! COME ON DEAR! HURRY UP SWEETIE! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!!"
Perhaps I'm being a little premature, but I wouldn't be surprised if she lands her first Tony by the time she's 10.